


Josephine Expansion Double Feature

by ProfessorGoggles



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ass Expansion, Breast Expansion, Hourglass Expansion, Lip Expansion, Other, Short Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorGoggles/pseuds/ProfessorGoggles
Summary: A pair of expansion fetish shorts featuring Thedas' most elegant bachelorette. The first one is BE with an oblivious subject, while the second is BE, AE, Hourglass and Lip Expansion with a highly responsive subject. No continuity between the two.
Relationships: Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet
Kudos: 7





	1. Sweet Tooth

Josephine was a golden blur as she danced from one conversation to another. “Yes, well, tell the Duke he can bring his own entourage if our staff will not serve, just keep it small. Make sure to send an invitation to every brother. That’s thirteen in all, please do count! And get those flowers out of here, the Marquise is deathly allergic.” She sighed and put down her clipboard, and leaned on the side of her desk waving one round of aides out the door as she gestured for the next to brief her. She idly picked up a cookie from the plate beside her. Her assistants all knew that sweets were how she got through days like this, bless their hearts.

She idly took a bite as the one she’d summoned relayed a courier’s message; a minor noble with a major complaint about how preparations for the next conclave at Skyhold were being conducted. But as the sweet touched her tongue, her eyes lit up, and the rest of the world faded away. “Maker, these are heavenly! Who made them?” she asked, startling the aide. He mumbled that he wasn’t sure, and started a line back in their report. But her heart wasn’t in listening to it. After he finished, she waved him off with a vaguely affirmative noise, which he seemed to interpret as some sort of command. She reached for another cookie. It took all of her not inconsiderable willpower to nibble it in a ladylike fashion, with the silver lining being that she got to savour each nut and taste of molasses. After that, the day became a game. Each individual inquisition employee coming to her became not a person but a puzzle, a puzzle that once properly solved, deserved the Pavlovian self-reward of another bite.

It was around the three-cookie mark that she began to feel flushed. She fanned herself, and loosened the scarf around her neck. “Hoo, could we perhaps, um, I don’t know. Have fewer people in here at once? I’m feeling a little overcome.” The assembled staff looked at each other quizzically, but soon enough the ones at the back of the queue obligingly left to wait outside the door. She shook her head, and got back to puzzling.

It was around the four-cookie mark that her dress started to feel snug at the chest. The diplomat turned away, trying to surreptitiously adjust her sash at the front. She managed to loosen the knot, but every time she retied it she just didn’t feel comfortable, so she kept fiddling with it, but it was constantly riding up. So distracted was she by trying to do two things at once that she didn’t notice how much larger her breasts were trying to push out, even as she was looking down at them. Eventually she realized her assistant had stopped talking, and she put aside the discomfort, turning back around and prompting him to continue.

He left. She had another cookie, then permitted herself a second in her other hand to distract from the still-mounting heat and discomfort, as she approached the next problem, a challenging one. The aide seemed nervous and avoided eye contact, occasionally glancing at her as they spoke and then fixedly staring at the wall. She gulped down the first cookie, and put a hand to her chest, not noticing the way it sank deeply into the soft, compressed flesh there. “Well,” she said, “if that’s how they’re going to be, then this might be more of a problem for Cullen.” The aide turned hurriedly to leave. “Wait, I jest, I jest! It’s not that bad. Not yet, anyway… give me some time to think about this one. Please, just ten minutes.”

As they shut the door, her tits trembled. Josephine, however, was oblivious to both the minor tremors that passed through her banquet-sized chest-jello from the vibrations of their action, and the urgent whispers that were beginning to pass among the crowd gathered in the hall. Her thoughts lay on her work, as she paced.

But the heat was growing, and her sash was feeling the strain even more as her now head-sized hooters tried to tent out her shirt and vest. Her focus ruined, Josephine looked around the room to check if she was alone. She was, so she finally undid the wretched sash, and tossed it and the vest aside. Instantly they blossomed out further, forcing her shirt to outline them snugly. She sighed as the tension disappeared and, now clad more casually in her stretchy, shimmery gold shirt and blue pantaloons, she sat down at her desk. She would muscle through this problem, she had to. She picked up another cookie.

-

Twenty minutes later, the panicked aides couldn’t wait any longer. They had to know what was happening to Josephine, even if she might be angry with them, or Maker forbid, if it was contagious.

They burst through the door. “There you are!” she exclaimed impatiently. She relaxed serenely behind her desk, next to an empty plate of crumbs, while her breasts, now the size of two halla yoked in front of a Dalish aravel, rested ridiculously on top of it, her beautiful golden shirt stretched to the max. “I may be in need of some assistance,” she continued, as she felt around blindly at the entirely obscured desk in front of her. “For I seem to have misplaced my clipboard. Can anyone see it?”


	2. The Potion

When Josephine opened the box on her desk, she found a mysterious red potion. She scowled softly as she read the tag. “As requested, ‘Diplomatic Red Lyrium’. This should help with the ‘failures in persuasion’ you’ve been having lately. Effects irreversible, use with caution. Kisses, L-“

What could Leliana mean with such a note? Sure, she’d made an offhand comment about how she wished there were as many magical supplements to help a people-person as there were for the fighters and mages of the inquisition, but had she really made such a major misstep as to warrant this jab? She couldn’t think of one. It was quite unlike the spymaster to compose such a prank, and if she was being honest it made her angry. Especially since Leliana knew she was having a bad day already, having confided in her how she’d finally worked up the courage to make a romantic overture towards the Inquisitor, only for it to go, to the best of her discernment, unnoticed.

She uncorked the flask, and gave it a sniff. Smelled of alcohol. Ha ha, very funny Leliana. Diplomatic red lyrium indeed, she thought, as she downed it.

At once, she felt a tingling, coupled with a rush of foreboding. It was like when she got too near one of Solas’ strange devices. This was no mere relabeled tavern brew. Her insides twisted, under the influence of magic or perhaps the liquor she just swigged? Probably both. She gasped, the air forced out as a vice tightened around her midsection. Her stomach pushed up on her lungs with each forceful squeeze, and she felt herself contorted, tighter than any garment ever could. She struggled, trying to grasp at her ribs as she was treated like a baster full of icing in a child’s grasp. But she found the enchantment held her rigid. She could only look down at her chest which seemed to be getting closer.

What was happening to her? She couldn’t even look properly. She strained and strained to feel her waist, when suddenly she was able to move again. She grasped desperately, feeling her fingers swish through loose cloth. Incredulous, she brought her hands closer together and pawed again, catching air where she would have found flesh this morning. She bustled over to the mirror in the corner, eventually managing to find her new waist, and saw that her hands practically met where they wrapped her torso. She undid her sash, pulling up her yellow shirt to see that not only her dusky flesh had been warped, but her skeleton as well. Her sides tapered in sharply under the ribs, which had been pushed up and out to start just below the breasts, and they did not flow back out again until the bones of her hips. She had the physique of a corseted, malnourished Val Royeaux prostitute!

But as she thought that, letting her shirt fall, she felt a strong twitch come over her, her back arching and her chest thrusting involuntarily out. She found that this time she could move her waist, the magic had moved on, which let her swivel in place to better observe her upper body as it was molded. This time, it felt like part of her body was rising, like a loaf of bread. That part was, she was surprised to see, her breasts, puffing out and causing the hem of her shirt to slowly skirt up. The loaf analogy was apt; they rose and rose, up and out, square with her chest and seemingly uplifted despite the absence of any actual supporting garment.

Apple, turnip, melon, she watched the comparisons drift by. The sensation was much more comfortable this time, or so she thought until she ran out of room. The hem of her shirt dug urgently into the lower part of her breast, as her front continued to billow outward, a stretching sail before strong winds. “No, no no not the silk.” She twisted back and forth, to no avail, only accelerating the quiet tearing sounds a garment on the verge of giving up the ghost. But just as she worried the hem might saw her through, the pressure stopped mounting, and just like last time she could move again, right as the changes ceased.

She sighed in relief, and gingerly made to remove it, but the moment she lowered her arms, they pressed into the sides of her breasts slightly, and the taxed garment hit its breaking point. Her tits actually rose, no longer allowing themselves to be bound down by her formerly ruffled golden silk shirt, instantly shredding it into strips. It now merely rested over the projecting shelf of her massive breasts like a swishy skirt for her chest. She sighed, taking off her long blue vest, and turning this way and that in the mirror as she investigated the slopes of her wholly illogical hooters.

They were about twice the size of a human head, each, but they felt light in her hands and hardly fell on her chest at all. When she moved, they behaved, but it seemed as if for all other purposes they might as well be weightless. She adjusted the golden ribbons in the vain hope that some of them could be made to cover her nipples, but to no avail. “Well, I guess I can only hope that breasts come back into fashion next year,” she said ruefully.

Again, she felt the magic course through her, but this time, she was able to anticipate it, deftly tugging her pantaloons down to knees as she felt the magic grip her lower body this time, leaving her in only her simple thong. Having some idea of the direction of things by now, she turned, facing the door and reflecting her rear in the mirror just as her legs locked.

She swiveled to look at her rear. Was she more flexible with her waist like this? Or was the stretch just easier because her bottom half was locked in place? Regardless, she had a clear view as, again, she began to puff out. This time her ass. She realized she could move her arms still for once, and gave her booty a grab as it rounded out, the curve becoming more pronounced, as did the crease where it met her legs, a perfect bubble butt forming under her very fingers almost instantly. But it didn’t stop there. From rounded, it went on to become practically two halves of a sphere, and then the sphere grew. And it felt good this time. Josephine was getting warm. The magic warping her flesh gave it a new sensitivity, which she explored, kneading her ass, then her thighs. The strange sensation, of a touch which was hers-on-hers-not-hers, was exciting, and as she felt her way experimentally along her breasts she found it seemed to be a feature of any of her flesh which had been expanded. And as she grazed her nipples, accidentally and then intentionally, she concluded that it affected some skin more than others.

But regardless of her passionate distraction, her body continued. When it could get no more spherical, the changes bled over into other areas, her hips widening and her legs thickening and thickening down to the knee so that her gluteus could keep its proportions. By the time it stopped, one was tempted to try and take a seat on her couch of a rear.

She only realized it was done when she nearly fell over, her legs returning to her. Turning her attention back to the mirror, she gazed at the thighs that completed her hourglass figure. No, she was past hourglass. If a glassblower gave her herself as an hourglass she’d hope she kept the receipt, because it couldn’t possibly be functional. They swelled out a foot further than her waist, on each side, and they framed butt cheeks that you could justifiably worry about drowning in. She chuckled distractedly, face flushed, and gave her right buttock a playful slap, followed by a deep rub for good measure. “At least that never goes out of style. But more importantly, is that it? Are we finally dO-“

Her sentence lay unfinished, an answer to itself. She’d lost the use of her mouth. It had locked in an O shape, stretched to its very limit. It was all coming to a head, pressure meeting lightness coupled with a burning heat. She fanned her frozen face, desperately rushing to the window and trying to cool her lips in the breeze. They were puffing up, she could feel it. And it was unbearable. Unable to speak, she moaned loudly, deep in her throat, partly in panic at being unable to control her tongue and breathing, but mostly in passion, in the final throes of the potion. For an instant, she felt her lips on each other and thought it had ended, but she was still frozen. They had just grown so massive that they touched at their edges even when her mouth was fully open.  
Finally, after a few quick moaning moments of eternity, it did end. The heat fading, she regained some measure composure and returned to the mirror.

She flexed her new lips experimentally, seeing the upper one almost brush her nose. When she duckfaced, it was actually obscured, the impressive blossom of her lip several inches wide and equally tall, even when fully puckered. Perhaps some manner of heat remained, for her head instantly filled with ideas for what she could do with them.

“Wuh- ... Wehl, dah’s,”

She wrestled with her spit and her new suckers, speaking slowly as she tried her best to find a way to speak around them.

“Wehl, daht. coode have. bean. muhce worth.”

Much worse indeed, she thought, looking herself over. She was a caricature, sure, but how many people could say that? Her buoyed breasts flared, her dangerous hips sashayed, her ridiculous rear enticed, her impossible waist fascinated and her luscious lips drew it all together somehow. She’d be the centre of every social she attended! Not to mention the more personal fun that it already delivered her.

The door behind her opened quickly. She heard the urgent steps of the inquisitor. “Josephine, are you okay? I heard-“

They stopped dead when they saw her, mouth agape.

“Ahm qwite fawne, thank yoo Quiz-it-oar.” She had particular trouble with that last word, but her eyes smirked even if her mouth didn’t have the dexterity. “Juhst a gwoth spurt. Ay feel sommething awf a dwaft, doe.” She gestured to her tattered shirt and undergarment-clad lower half.

They tried to avoid looking at her, easier said than done the way she now filled a room. “Yes, well. Let’s see if we can’t get you clothed.”

Another surge of that inner heat grabbed her, and she said saucily “Pehaps somethn in yaw woom wiw fiht me?” Was she already getting the hang of this?

The inquisitor froze for a second, blushing madly. “Yes, I suppose there might be something in my room.”

Josephine waved them onward, readying herself psychologically for a quick streak through the main hall to the stairwell. When they turned around, she pumped her fist behind their back. Finally!

From her silent perch in the rafters, Leliana smiled. It seemed the mission was very much a success. And if it wasn’t, well then even the Inquisitor could be brought to justice. Anything to make Josie happy.

She eyed her friend's desk, and wondered if Josephine had drunk all of the potion…

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on DA (2018) under the name Qwhimzy.


End file.
